Lavender Love

Early morning sunlight filters through the blinds of a pastel green and white bedroom. The room glows softly with a warm, golden hue, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. A quiet stillness fills the space. The air is thick with unspoken tension as Chris and Armani wake, each silently lost in thought.

Chris and Armani wake up and get ready for the day. Armani, who’s an art buyer, is preparing for work, while Chris, who owns a trucking company, has taken the day off. No one really wants to speak.

“I have a 6 o’clock meeting with Kelly. Will you be home for the prints to be delivered?” Armani asks, adjusting her earrings while staring at her reflection—her tone calm, but distant.

“Only until 12 noon. I have a few errands I need to run, and I promised Ally I’d meet up with her later. But if they don’t come before I leave, I’ll let you know,” Chris says, her voice flat but cooperative.

“Okay... You know we still have to talk about last night,” Armani replies, pausing, her expression unreadable.

“Well, Armani, unless we’re talking about heading to therapy, I don’t quite frankly know what else we need to discuss. I mean, you kinda said it all before we went to bed. But, if there’s anything I can do to fix it, I will... I love you?” Chris says, her voice uncertain, tinged with quiet desperation.

“I love you too,” Armani says softly, turning away.

Armani walks out, the door closing behind her with a gentle click. She pulls off in her sleek black 2026 Cadillac. Chris stands silently in the doorway, watching her leave with a hollow look in her eyes. The morning feels colder now.

Mid-morning. The sun is fully up, casting a harsh, bright light. Chris, dressed in jeans and a branded jacket, now stands in line at the bank, scrolling absently on her phone. Her posture is relaxed but her mind drifts—clearly preoccupied.

Suddenly, a familiar voice breaks her trance.

“Hey, Chris,” says Jasmine, their mutual friend.

Chris smiles, startled into the present. “Oh, hey. How’s your day going?” she asks politely.

“It’s going pretty good. I’m actually headed to see Armani. There’s some really cool painting I’m interested in for my home office, and she’s the only one who has access to them. So I’m hoping this meeting goes well—with her and Aaron.”

“Well, you know Aaron can be a bit of a dick, but my wife has a lot of pull there, so I’m pretty sure everything will go smoothly,” Chris replies with a half-laugh.

“Oh my God, I really hope so. You know, I saw her at The Cork Bar last week.”

“Oh yeah? You mean Saturday? She mentioned she had a lunch meeting there with Aaron about heading the whole art department. Said it went great,” said Chris, with a slight smile.

“Uhhh, no. I think this was like Wednesday or Thursday. She was with somebody named Jodi—apparently, she’s a Production Supervisor at a trucking company... Uh, she’s part of one of the companies you bought out a few months back,” Jasmine says casually.

Flashback to Armani telling Chris she’d be in Fraser for a work event, trying to gain a new client with an original piece of art. Chris’s expression shifts—faint realization and doubt begin to settle in. Her shoulders tense slightly.

“Oh... it must have been about getting that large amount of art to the gallery in L.A. You know, the Carmichael Art Gallery has their own trucks for art transport, but they’ve had some issues with their mechanics. So, she’s been talking about letting me take over,” Chris says, trying to sound certain—convincing herself more than Jasmine.

“Well, I gotta get moving before I’m late. Are you and Armani free to meet up at the lounge with Trina and the rest of us?” Jasmine asks brightly.

“Sure. Me and Ally are meeting up in a few at The Cork Bar. I’ll ask if she’s going.” says Chris

“Okay, great. Bye,” says Jasmine, exiting the bank in a rush.

Afternoon. The Cork Bar is dimly lit with amber lights, casting a cozy glow. Soft jazz hums in the background. Glasses clink in the distance, and bartenders move briskly behind the counter. Chris walks in, shoulders slightly hunched, scanning the bar until her eyes land on Ally, a well-known cosmetic surgeon, seated confidently at the bar.

“Hey girl, what took you so long? You’re late,” Ally says playfully, sipping her cocktail.

“I’m only like five minutes late,” says Chris, sliding onto the barstool beside her.

“Yeah, yeah. What are you having?”

Chris sighs heavily, placing her hands on the bar. “I need a double shot and a glass of red wine. Sweet.”

“Ummm... okay. Work must got you really stressed out for you to be ordering a double shot of anything,” Ally says, raising an eyebrow.

“You right about that... and although I hate to admit it—home too,” says Chris, her voice quieting.

“Home?” Ally asks, now with a puzzled look. “Chris, what’s wrong?”

Chris hesitates. She takes a deep breath, her voice cracking slightly.

“I think... I think Armani may be cheating on me.”